A work in progress

I watch the road beneath my feet for inspiration as I walk. Asphalt cracks mended with black tarlike paint strokes, crabgrass breaking the surface of sidewalks, crumbling edges being eaten by the undergrowth, worms crawling across the surface in search of water and safety. My phone pics have an endless catalog of the earth pushing back and the impermanence of our effect on nature. Here’s a couple of pics I took on my morning walk of some roadway paint wearing away. The forms and line were the inspiration behind this month’s experiments.

Starting with a blank piece of cotton canvas I stitched in some of those lines I saw on the street. The wool batting beneath that top layer of canvas gave me a billowing effect. It seemed to swell the fabric. I emphasized the swelling with tight parallel lines of stitching in thread that matched the fabric color. Then I added a strong double thick line of stitching around the billowing forms.

The tightly stitched surface gave me space to add active linework, color and cartoon. I used watered down India ink to emphasize the red and yellow dotted elements. The contrast between the tight stitching and the billowing foreground added depth. This shows the ink in a wet stage. It dried lighter overall.

Several stages of layered stitch later I have detailed, complicated patterning. When I added the pale blue boxes as a new layer of information they didn’t stand out enough so I added fill and a black outline to reinforce them.

Below is a progression series showing the layering of stitch that transformed the surface of the cloth.

At this stage I am wondering just how much more I can add before the needle won’t go through the cloth properly. I may have to wait a bit to decide. I may stuff the billowing parts even more. I may do more hand stitching. All in all it was a good experiment and I may do this again on a larger piece.

It’s a study in what lies beneath.

On Travel and Nakedness

Some of my work is traveling. Quilts going out, quilts coming back. I say often that my art isn’t done until it goes out on its own to be seen. I threaten to embed a video camera in the work so that I can track its journey and see the reactions of those who attend the shows.

Imagine being thrust into a box, rolled up with some of your pals, moving along conveyor belts in the darkness and into trucks to be thrown onto the porch of the museum or gallery. The curator unwraps you to new light and then you are on display, naked to the public. Saying what you must say, being who you must be. Out loud.

A selection of my work will join others on Martha’s Vineyard at the Featherstone Center for the Arts. It’s a group show including fiber artists Alice Beasley, ​Michele Beasley Maloney, Earamichia Brown, Shin-hee Chin, Chiaki Dosho, Pamela Flam, L'Merchie Frazier, Sharon Havelka, Natalya Khorover, Karol Kusmaul, Susan Lenz, Caroline MacMoran, Wen Redmond, Linda Syverson Guild, and Jaleeca Yancy. What a roster! Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be part of a round table discussion with all of these artists?

Scrap column-detail, Paula Kovarik

I spent last week working again on the scrap piece that is taking over my studio. These will travel to the International Quilt Museum in Lincoln, Nebraska in January as part of a solo exhibition in one of their galleries. The pieces are a sort of retrospective of the works I have created in the past 20 years. Morphing them into a column has been revealing. I have more black scraps than colorful scraps. I see repetition in the stitching from one to the next. I like them the most when they move as if alive (I wonder if I could install a small motor that would activate that jittery motion?). Frayed edges add life.

Some of my beasts will travel to the Blue Spiral Gallery in Asheville, NC as part of the Common Thread exhibit they will mount in September. I’ll need to name them and figure out what it means when a herd member is separated from its herd.

This collage piece is in Little Rock, Arkansas as part of the Delta Triennial exhibition. The Arkansas Museum of Fine Art has been completely renovated and enlarged recently (and it was formidable before this) so I am really looking forward to visiting this piece myself. I can’t wait to see what the other artists have contributed to this great show. What are they saying out loud?

Everything seemed fine until the earth pushed back, 29” x 25”, PAULA KOVARIK

The whole world’s watching, detail, Paula Kovarik

Edward Hopper once said “If I could say it in words there would be no reason to paint.”

Art speaks. Out loud and naked. Go see some. You can talk back to it.

Done

Five months ago I started an experiment. I took two of my finished quilts and cut them up into pieces to merge them into one. Through the process I felt excitement, despair, confidence and doubt. I had to put it aside a few times to take the time to look at it sideways, upside down and cut in half. I stitched over it, under it and through it. Then I cut it up some more. And stitched again.

And now I am done. Here is the final result. A piece I am calling Brood (65” x 65”).

Brood, Paula Kovarik, 65” x 65”, collaged quilted pieces.

There are more stories about this process here and here.

“Such things become the hatch and brood of time.” - William Shakespeare, Henry IV

An artist residency

I spent the last two weeks at the Hambidge Center for Creative Arts & Sciences, an artist residency program in northeast Georgia in the beautiful Blue Ridge mountains. The center is intentionally rustic, each of eight studios have no wifi and no cell service. There were writers, musicians, painters and ceramic artists there while I attended. We ate together at the Rockhouse pictured here.

My studio, the Son House, was located down the road from the main facility, surrounded by the forest.

I woke up every morning to the pecking of a woodpecker outside my door. My daily schedule included reading, hiking and experimenting. During the first week I spent most of my time hiking. The Center has a number of well marked trails through the woods with streams, waterfalls and overlooks. Just splendid. My phone served as a record keeper of the fantastic textures, details and drama I walked through each day.

We had two days of rain when I was able to focus on my work instead of ambling around in a daze. I did some painting, some origami, some stitching, some drawing, some wrapping. I learned a little about Dynamic Symmetry—the law of natural design based upon the symmetry of growth in man and in plants originally theorized by Jay Hambidge back in the early 20th century. I used his dynamic rectangle diagram as a starting point for these drawings.

I brought my black locust thorns project with me as a meditation. These thorns are very sharp and require concentration and calm when I wrap them. The thread comes from my work. I wrapped a thorn each day. I think I have accumulated about 30 wrapped thorns so far.

Here’s what I learned from this residency:

  • go with no expectations

  • pay attention to the silence

  • work if you are inspired but don’t work if it feels forced

Most of the stitching I did while at Hambidge was a mess. I had to let go of my goal-oriented mindset to be able to find a new rhythm.

I’ll miss the silence in these woods, the fresh mountain air, the emerging life. The experience was a gift to my cluttered mind. It opened up some fresh thoughts.

Books I read while there:

  • The Pioneers: The Heroic Story of the Settlers Who Brought the American Ideal West by David McCullough (18th century pioneers travel down the Ohio river. The politics and policies behind the expansion to the west is told through diaries)

  • The Dry by Jane Harper (a mystery set in drought stricken Australia about an unsolved death of a teenage girl.)

  • Gilead: A Novel by Marilynne Robinson (a moving and intimate letter from an Iowa preacher and father to his son as a last revealing message before he dies)

One of several new forms I made while experimenting with shape.